What Was Left Behind
by FreakyWannabes
Summary: Emperor Griffon had wished for the world's renewal. Complete renewal. Two youths: an inventor, a princess, saved the earth from such a fate. But a plan that large must have had something more, in case things did go awry. . .
1. The Mistakes in Farewell

**What Was Left Behind**

**Chapter One: The Mistakes in Farewell**

I own nothing, but I SO wish I did. . . wah. I cry now.

And . . . now I'm mortified so I shall stop. And hey, I have FINALLY made a Dark Cloud 2 fanfic, so I am very happy, for Dark Cloud 2 is THE BEST EVER.

Ranting over.

Please continue on downward to the actual story. Thank you.

One month. That was all it had been since he and a princess from one hundred years away defeated the Dark Element, a creature borne from the hatred of a boy named Sirus. Or rather known as the Emperor Griffon.

The princess, a fiery redhead named Monica, had appeared in his life so suddenly, appeared mysteriously in his town, though the gates were closed shut. Though she was disguised in shape-shift as a young penniless boy, when Monica did reveal herself to Max and save him and his company from one of Griffon's accomplices, he knew that the girl would make a great, bold impact on his life. And he did not think falsely, for she opened his eyes to the world and showed him marvels and tragedies he would otherwise be deprived of. So at the end, when their end came as suddenly as she appeared, he was numb when it was learned that the princess, warrior, and friend Monica had to leave. Not just a simple departure, but a leave across time--a span Max knew would be near impossible to overcome. The atlamillia were gone. There was no link.

And there was also his mother, who lived in the same era as Monica. She had vanished when he was still a child, and after just reuniting he did not wish to see her go. There was so many questions that remained unanswered between them. So, as she and Monica's minutes in his time were stretching thin, it was in his mother's arms that he was most, asking, telling, trying to attain what was lost in his childhood. When Monica did approach him at last, just when their time was nearly spent, Max realized with longing that there was not hardly enough seconds between them to share what he had to say. And there was much that he wished to tell her. The thanks, the remembering of memories, maybe a souvenir to remember each other by. But instead he had selfishly ran to his mother and ignored the girl who helped them to reunite, the one who patiently waited for him to part from his mother.

All she had said was, "You're not gonna forget about me, are you?" when she had the chance.

And he, still struck numb with the sudden realization of all the lost words between them, could only answer simply, "Of course not."

Then she was gone.

One month. That was the time since he returned to his town of Palm Brinks and was received with the grandest of celebrations. Everyone was there: his father, the Mayor, the Sheriff, Cedric, even the Firbits, along with all his friends that he had met along his great adventure.

But she was not there. She couldn't. She couldn't share in his happiness, the feeling of pride, and in the warm congratulations. Though she must be having a celebration on a much of a higher scale, he still felt that if there was to be celebration, it should be for them both, together, for without each other's help and support, there would be no merrymaking.

"Where's the girl, Max?" Erik, a boy who worked on the Blackstone Railroad, questioned near the celebration's start.

And then Erik watched as the smile from Max's face diminished. "She's gone. Bone back to her own time."

But that was some time ago. One month. In that time, Max steeled his efforts during the day to returning to Cedric's shop, repairing and creating. He resolved that he and Monica both had duties to attend to and both of them sulking and slacking would not help them reunite anyway. At night, he would return to his room in the mansion, and then on his desk he would find pictures of her, or them both, that had been taken on their journey. Then regrets would fill him to the brink, and he would bury such thoughts in sleep, for she was not coming back.

"Hey Max," the scratchy voice of Cedric inquired from behind his desk. "Why don't you go get us some breakfast from the bakery, huh?" He tossed the boy some coins.

"Sure."

The bakery, formerly owned by Polly, was only a few paces away from the maintenance shop. He pulled open the door and stepped up to the counter.

"Hello, Max. What would you like?"

Max scanned the shelves of bread and pastries for a moment before choosing some for himself and for his boss. The coins chinged onto the counter and he received the baked goods. Turning, however, toward the door, he felt the pastries slip from his grasp and fall messily onto the tiled floor of the bakery.

For a figure ran down the street. It was a boy, young in age, with a raggedy ripped shirt and bare feet. A shock of matted red hair flung a bout his face as he passed.

"M. . . M. . ." He stuttered, feeling a great dizziness rush up through his limbs.

"Max?" The shopkeeper inquired softly. "Is something wrong?"

Leaving her question unanswered and abandoning the fallen pastries, Max pushed his suddenly lead-filled legs into a sprint out the door.

He saw the boy ahead, running with what seemed a great purpose. Max trailed after, realizing that when he first met this boy he had been leisurely running, intentionally letting Max catch him. Because now, all Max seemed to do was drift farther behind.

"Moni--Monica! Monica!" He shouted--screamed into the air before him.

The boy seemed to trip for a moment, but his pace didn't slack. Nor did he turn around. He only ran down the curve of the street, making for the town gate was what seemed.

Max felt his face pull to a smirk and a giddiness filled him. He pulled right, into an alleyway, and hopped over the trash cans, making for the street on the other side. Peeking between buildings, he saw the red-haired boy approach and so Max shot out. He heard the boy's startled cry as Max tackled him to the cobblestone street.

Before he knew it, Max found himself laughing. He picked himself up, then raised the boy to his feet. The dizzy, almost sickeningly high feeling was still present.

For a moment the corners of the boy's mouth twitched, as if Max's laugh was infectious. But like all moments, it passed and the boy was frowning again.

"I am so foolish," he said and turned from Max, starting back up into a run.

Max's laughter abruptly stopped. "Monica?"

The boy ran a couple more paces then halted, so sharply it was as if a force stopped him in his tracks. He gasped and then turned around, biting his lip and hiding behind his bangs so Max could not see his eyes. After a debated hesitation, the boy took a step back toward him. Then suddenly he lunged forward, clutching to Max's arm and dragging him along with as he ran to the town gates.

"Come with me." The boy said at length.

Max couldn't think. His body seemed mechanical, moving underneath him. Somehow, Monica had come back! Clouded with that fact, he failed to see the urgency and worry in the boy's voice when he spoke.

She had come back!

It was on the railroad tracks, on one of the stone hangoffs that were on each side when they stopped, sides heaving.

"When is the next train?"

Max looked at the boy, "In about fifteen minutes." He He now sensed the troubled air. "Monica. . .?" Why was she worried about time?

The boy, who previously had his eyes averted, shook his bangs away and locked eyes with Max.

"Max." He was ready to say more, but he found himself enveloped into a tight embrace.

"Monica. . . I'm sorry. When you left, I didn't--I was--my mother. . ."

The boy broke the hug, and looked at him with a slight expression of bewilderment. Then he shook his head, avoiding Max's words. "Max." He said firmly. "Something's not right. In my time. There's been . . confusion. Misunderstandings. Please, there'll be--people are looking for me. I didn't mean to come here, or in this shape. I didn't want you. . . involved. But I realize that they might look for you to get answers."

"They?"

"It doesn't matter. If they come, you did not meet me just now. I did _not_ come back. I was never here, understand?" His voice broke at the end.

"M--Monica. . . "

"Now turn away and go back to Palm Brinks. I never came back, okay?"

In shock, Max obeyed and faced away from the boy, began walking toward the station. He stopped. "But Monica," he said, a bit weakly, "you _are_ back. There's so much we missed. . . "

He heard the boy heave a great breath of air, then run away from him. After a moment, Max looked back and saw Monica, no longer disguised, run along the tracks. Max gasped. Her hair was loose and whipped out behind her, but that wasn't what caught his eye, though he had never seen her hair unbound. Upon her form, clinging to her shoulders and back, was dirty, ripped cloth in worse condition than the one she wore in the boy's shape. Her feet were bare and looked sored.

That night Max didn't, since his return, didn't think of what was, how they had shared time in each other's company during the journey. Instead, he was busy shoving some spare clothes and food into a large sack. Throwing that over his shoulder, he ran down to a clothing shop before it closed. There he purchased shoes for Monica as well as some descent wear. Whatever was happening, he would help her. They had always solved things together.

Shutting the door to the shop behind him he walked, as not to gain attention, to the town's gates for the second time that day.

"Excuse me, young sir."

Max turned around; the man's voice was not recognized. Three men stood in front of him, with armored chests and helmets covering most of their face.

"You wouldn't be Maximilian, would you? Late companion to the girl Monica Raybrandt?"

Max's mind reeled. He was unprepared. "Yes. Monica--is she here?" His heart pumped furiously, but he willed himself to stay calm and not overreact. Without question, this was the "they" Monica had spoke of.

"This would be the first place she would run to."

"Run to? Why?" Max's words weren't all feinted now.

"Monica Raybrandt is under arrest."

Max gaped. What could she have done? "Under what charges? Are you sure _Monica_ would have done something wrong? How can you arrest a _princess_?"

The man pulled out a piece of paper and read its contents. "Monica Raybrandt is hereby relieved from her duties as Princess of Avaran for abandoning her kingdom at a dire time, failing to put forward any action regarding the kingdom of Avaran, and failing to react to a peasant rebellion. Monica Raybrandt is under arrest for the murder of her father the King Jasan Raybrandt of Avaran, unauthorized shape transformation, and more recently, stealing a starglass from Crest the Great Sage and escaping from confinement."

um. . .that's it for now. Um, does Max have a last name? ach, stupid question, um does anyone know Max's last name? Or Monica's kingdom name? . . . Or Monica's father's name? '


	2. Max's Agreement and Monica's Dream

**What Was Left Behind**

**Chapter 2: Max's Agreement and Monica's Dream**

Well, hello peoples, um, I own nothing. . . still.

Anywho, yer probably not going to get an update this soon again. ;P

And OH GEEZ, this story is already getting whack and it's just the second chapter! o. This story actually is going to be pretty . . . intense, I guess. Just read my notes for it, and it might be a long one. ;;;;

AND THANKS GUYS FOR HELPING ME WITH NAMES! Max's last name is "Leale" and Monica's kingdom is "Lebrante." So it's not gonna be Avaran anymore. ..

Two bare, sore hands fell trembling to the wet ground. Soaked strands of crimson silk floated across her back, draping in the grass and mud as she crawled. The rain poured relentlessly down on her shivering form, both mocking and pitying her disgraceful state. In a matter of seconds she found her face buried in the soggy ground, her usual fiery eyes half-closed in a drowse. In fatigue and self-loathing her whole body shook with a violence that would not subside. ..

_"PRINCESS! PRINCESS MONICA!" They had shouted, all reaching for her. Their hands grabbed at the ends of her hair, her shirt._

_"Why did you leave us? Where is our King? Where have _you_ been?"_

_"Have you not heard? I was away, trying to help all of you--OW!" One hung to her hair, dragging her down with his body weight._

_"They say you killed him!"_

_"They say you went mad!"_

_"The rebellion--we resisted our friends--we defended you. But when they began attacking _us _still you did nothing!"_

_"Rebellion?"_

_"You did nothing--you just disappeared--they say you hid in the walls and watched us!"_

_"Watched the peasants rebel, storm through your grand palace and destroy it, along with all of your followers."_

_"What? Where was Eldrinn? I had told the messenger to tell him of my absence!"_

_"So you _did_ leave us!" They mourned, clutching at her in a new desperation._

_"I have helped save you all! My cousin should have come and--"_

_"He came too late, Princess."_

_"He received no message. But eventually he did try to find you and stop the rebellion--but you couldn't be found and the resistors were brutal."_

_"He could do nothing."_

_"Let _**go**_ of me!" They dragged at her still. "I have done no wrong! I was helping to defeat Griffon, Emperor Griffon, you remember that surely?"_

_"But no one saw you leave the palace, no guard."_

_"Why must you lie to us?"_

_"Please, Princess--"_

_"**Let go of me!**"_ ..

Why did none of her messengers reach anyone? Monica lay disconsolate on the ground, still on her stomach--her muscles were still too sore to provide any use. How could everything have gone wrong?

Of course they didn't see her leave--she had an Atlamillia stone. But she entrusted people of loyalty with her plans. Why did they do nothing?

And now everyone believed she the one behind King Jasan's death, her very own father! How could they? What kind of low-life would frame her? And her kingdom of Lebrante was completely overrun and collapsed in ruins. Her family name was shamed, and worse, they had somehow found out about her unauthorized transformation as a small boy when she had tested Max. Worse and worse yet, Crest could not convince any that she _gave_ Monica a starglass to see Max. No one had heard of Max there. She hated herself for being so unprepared and foolish.

Monica finally had enough will to roll herself onto her back. Soaked as her hair was, and seeing as how it lay intertwined between the many rivulets of mud, she could not move her head.

And then, on her way to prison, Crest had sneaked a starglass and concealed it inside the red stone upon Monica's chest. She was the only one that offered Monica any aid, and Monica loved the old woman dearly for it. That was one soul who she could still trust.

But being foolish and rash as she normally was, in her haste she had without realization of the possible consequences, appeared in the very town of Palm Brinks, and in the very form Max would recognize. She cursed herself for being so stupid. Why drag Max further in her mess?

Monica sighed, and her eyelids drooped over irises of scarlet. She was lost in sleep. ..

"You must have made some mistake!" Max attempted. "Monica's father was killed by a man named Gaspard--one in league with Emperor Griffon! And--"

"Relax, boy." A man, not looking too much older than Max himself, stepped around the three large men and approached him. His form was graced with golden robes and auburn silks. His long hair was pulled from his face in a horse-tail of rich brown. The man looked at him with serious, yet not cruel, mahogany eyes.

"My name is Eldrinn. I am cousin to Princess Monica. I, despite others' counsel, would doubt Monica would do any of which she is charged. However, no one else is willing to believe it. That is why my men and I went to retrieve her before someone less descent finds her. Once we find her we'll try and set things right. But come now, it's starting to rain. Is there anywhere we can talk?"

Max lead the men, clearly relieved, to his large house and spoke with them in the entrance.

"Maximilian, right?"

Max nodded, "Yeah. Max Leale."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Max. If you would listen, I have a favor to ask you." When Max did not speak, the young prince continued, "If you do happen to see Monica, will you send for us immediately?"

"How will I do that?"

Eldrinn nodded, as if Max had already accepted. "Jace." He clapped his hands twice. A young boy, maybe of seven or eight years of age, crept forward.

The prince turned his eyes back to Max, "Jace will accompany you. He cannot talk, so he should not be too bothersome. He has a copy of the map we have currently. On it, he can see where we are--Jace?"

Obediently, the young boy pulled from a sac that slung around his shoulder a rolled piece of parchment. Standing by Max now, he showed him the map. On it there were tiny shards of stone, and when Max touched one, he found they were glued on intentionally. One piece glowed a bright red, the one on top of Palm Brinks. Max raised his eyes in question to Eldrinn.

Eldrinn tapped the gem in one of his earrings. "They're made from the same stone. The different shards will react with ours. Maybe you'll figure out how later; I hear you are a man of genius, are you not?"

Max smirked, "I guess so." There was a pause, "And yes, I'll look for Monica. Anything I can do to help."

"Thank you, young man. I hope we can set things right."

"Me too." He slightly bowed his head as Eldrinn turned and marched off with his men.

Max looked at the tan boy beside him. "I guess I should pack for you too, huh?"

Jace shook his head. He opened the sac's pouch completely and revealed to Max that the boy had come prepared. It was nearly filled to the brim with breads, fruits, and other foods. Jace smiled triumphantly. ..

_Monica stood inside her bedroom in the Lebrante kingdom. Her long hair was pulled behind her with many ribbons. It waved lightly in the soft breeze from an opened window. Gliding over to her desk, Monica rested her hand on a picture of King Jasan, her father._

_Her fingers closed around the frame's edge and she raised it to her face. But only her hand came; the picture dropped to the stone floor and its glass shattered. Monica cursed at her sudden clumsiness and bent to pick it up when she realized it wasn't her action that was to fault. Her hand, quivering now, was coated in a thick layer of dusty blue ash._

_Touching it ever so slightly with the other hand, her skin fell away in the breeze, revealing bloodless bone. Gasping, she went to run from the room when the wind picked up drastically and she lost her balance. Crashing to the crude, hard floor, she tore her boots off. The bottom of her feet were becoming the same, ash-like substance. The walls disappeared around her, the sky. It was dark._

_Agonizing throe took over her chest and her body convulsed._

_"Look at you. Your mind is coated with rage. . . " A voice whispered._

_"What?" Monica gasped, wincing at the pain. "Rage?"_

_"Hatred, loathing. . ."_

_"I don't hate anyone!"_

_"You hate yourself. After all, your kingdom has fallen, and who is to blame? Who failed to make preparations for your absence? Who made sure Eldrinn got the message?"_

_"Who are you? Who are you to tell me what I think?"_

_"I come only in warning." A silhouette made its presence, bending over her. A sudden light revealed its face, and it was the bitter face of a thing Monica had thought was destroyed forever. The Dark Element._ ..

um ho dee dum, well that's all for now.

Reviewers get chocolate chip cookies!

If you don't like chocolate chip, I have peanut butter cookies in reserve!


	3. Encounter

**What Was Left Behind**

**Chapter Three: Encounter**

All the witty sayings are taken, so I'll just have to bluntly say: I don't own Dark Cloud 2.

* * *

Sitting in his room, the strange map sprawled before his feet, Max had a hand cradling his chin. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, studying the odd piece of parchment. In the corner of his vision he glimpsed Jace smiling crookedly at him. Max grinned himself, but didn't turn to him.

"Hey now, don't look at me like that. Your time is one hundred years more advanced than mine. . . . But I'm gonna figure this out." He looked closer at the map, touching the stones tentatively. He turned to Jace.

"Cedric's Maintenance Shop will open in a few minutes. Then I can tell him this whole predicament and hopefully he'll let me off. If he doesn't, I hope I won't get fired for taking off work."

After a moment's pause he rolled up the map and stuck it inside his bag. When he turned to Jace as a sign to get moving, he saw the brief moment of disappointment that crossed the boy's features.

Max pulled back out the map and handed it to Jace. "Here, I forgot this was your job. Sorry." Jace smiled.

* * *

"Monica? Doin' that sort of thing? No way!" Cedric exclaimed, throwing a fist into the air for exaggeration.

"Cedric, I have to find her. But I don't know how long it will take and she seemed pretty distressed when she talked to me. She might be pretty far from here—"

"Take all the time you need, boy." I'll hold the things here just fine. No need to worry about that." He saw the plain relief wash over Max's face.

"Thanks, Cedric." Max turned and went for the door when Cedric's voice halted him.

"Hey, Max." The boy turned. Cedric spoke next with the low tone of voice he always pursued when he felt Max though matters too light. "Sounds to me like she's been set up."

"Who would set _Monica_ up? In any case, I'll find Monica and together we'll make a solution." He turned and ran out of the shop. There he met with the boy, Jace, and without a word in exchange they proceeded to the town gates.

Cedric, his eyes on the door where Max had just lunged through, heaved a great sigh. That so small an uttering, the sigh, betrayed all the worry he held for the boy and the girl he sought. The innocent boy Max had trouble still believing how hearts could turn corrupt. He believed that with the passing of the Dark Element, the world was cleansed from all evil. In part that was true. However what Max could not comprehend, as his own heart was genuine, was that other men's minds were fickle, sometimes dishonest. And it was those two characteristics that could trigger certain events and enable more . . . serious of emotions to come to.

So Cedric, watching Max and the young boy beside him depart, felt that maybe not all scenarios could be remedied, especially when so much minds were against the cause. That Max's very own innocence could lead to make matters worse.

* * *

Monica, after re-entering the domain of sleep again after her nightmare, felt the rays of sun pierce her eyes behind their lids. She opened them, and was met with the sight of the creature Himarra bending over her face. Seeing that Monica was awake, it leapt back and bent forward, showing the girl its array of weapons. The blade-like petals encircling its face quivered.

Monica wrenched her head away from the still-moist earth and sat up, unsettling the Himarra even more. It growled at her, a throaty cackle used to alarm travelers, but Monica wasn't a mere visitor and so ignored the threat. She stood up and slightly steadied herself before setting her palm on the pommel of her sword and walking slowly away, leaving the Himarra still standing defensively behind.

She would go see Jurak, she decided. Even though he lived in her time and it was more dangerous there than here, she direly needed his counsel. And if that he would not give, then she would sit silently in his company, thinking of what she could possibly do to remedy the current situation.

Standing in a secluded spot in Sindain, Monica took the starglass that she kept magically concealed in the red stone upon her chest and used the powerful item to appear before Jurak, the mighty tree spirit.

"Hello, young Monica," Jurak murmured in his slow, lulling voice.

"Jurak," Monica pleaded, "I am in need of your wise advice."

There was a small pause. "Yesss?"

"Surely you have heard of what happened in Lebrante?"

"Yes child, I have." Another long pause ensued between the two in an uncomfortable silence. "Where is Max?"

"Max?" Monica was surprised by the question. "It would do no good to drag him deep into this," She said at last.

"Monica," Jurak began, "you cannot try and fix everything yourself. You haven't the streeenghth physically or mentally."

"That's why I'm asking you! Jurak, please, can you tell me anything as to why this happened, why my messages never reached Eldrinn. . . or. . . "She faded off in an exasperated sigh.

"I have given already to you my adviiice. Use it or abandon it, that's yooouur choice."

"Jurak!" Monica cried despairingly. But he said no more.

Finally, as her head slumped forward and her temples pulsed violently, she heard his voice again.

"I gave you what I had. You cannot wait here forever and hide from what's happened."

"I'm _not_ hiding!" Monica sharply snapped before she reigned in her temper and cooled her voice down. "I am not hiding."

To prove her point, she took out the starglass and left him, her mind spinning in frustration.

* * *

"Monica?"

Unable to stifle her gasp of surprise, the red-headed girl lifted her eyes and found herself staring at none other than Max. He, too, seemed surprised at her appearance, but while he held relief also openly expressed, she found her face twisting grotesquely in the emotion of horror. Max had followed her?

"Monica?" He asked again, his voice lathered in concern.

* * *

. . . Yeah, SOOOO um that's it. Short yes, but nishte. --;

Oh well.

Is it hot by you guys? Man, you go outside for one minute and you're already sweating:O


	4. Betrayal?

**What Was Left Behind**

**Chapter Four: Betrayal?**

I do not own DC2. mowr

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"Monica?"

"Max! What are you, why--" Too unnerved by his presence before her, Monica failed to see the boy Jace leave their company.

"You didn't think I'd let you just leave, did you? Especially seeing how you wouldn't even speak to me normally. Besides--"

"You idiot!" She punched him in the cheek, more violently than she expected to. "Maybe there was a _reason_ I didn't want you to follow me!"

"I know, I know, just _listen_." He broke in, one hand holding his stinging cheek. "The people you spoke of, they came very shortly after you left. I did _not_ tell them I saw you. So quit scowling. But they told me what everyone believes you've done."

Monica gasped and stepped back a trace. She almost looked as if she was about to run.

"Monica--" He found her eyes. "You didn't think I actually believed them, do you? You were here, with me. You couldn't have done anything!" Softening his voice, he said, "But I think I know a way we can deal with this."

"'We?'" Monica said half-heartedly. "There isn't a 'we' this time, Max. This is my problem, and I will find a solution. I've already dragged you into enough messes."

"Yes but those _messes_ concerned me as well. And don't forget I agreed to help."

"This problem doesn't concern you, Max."

"Yes it does," he pressed, "because you are hurt by it. That's reason enough to make it deal with me as well."

Looking into his eyes, Monica found no jest, no uncertain emotions of what he just said. Monica opened her mouth to make a feeble reply, but Max was determined to finish his mind and uncharacteristically intervened.

"We've been looking after each other for a long time. And just because our initial mission was completed does not mean we can abandon each other."

"I was _trying_ to help you." She almost seemed offended.

"By keeping me blissfully unaware? That didn't help me when I was secluded in Palm Brinks, not knowing of the world outside its walls."

Max paused, as if rethinking. He looked at her again, "I'm sorry if I sound harsh, but you have to accept my help! And I _do_ have a way _we_ can work this out."

Monica silently debated within herself as to whether she should actually risk his aid. But she decided to at least listen to what he had to say.

Confronted with her lack of answer, Max decided to continue, "We already know all your charges are false, so--"

"Not exactly."

Max's eyes shot up in brief surprise, "'Not exactly?' But you were here, you couldn't have done anything."

"I abandoned what was left of my kingdom. I failed to check if any of my notices got through to ones who would help in my absence. I caused a bitter rebellion from leaving my time and retrieving you."

"Do you . . . regret that?" His voice was slow.

"I . . ." At her hesitation and when her eyes strayed from his own, Max felt his chest compress. "No. I guess I don't." She looked back up at him, but her gaze was devoid of confidence and Max felt he wasn't completely convinced.

"Well . . ." He began, a little flustered at her dubiety. "If we can return to your time, we can find my mother, and Lord Agaris--they can help prove your innocence."

"Max . . ."

He raised a hand, "Besides them, I have--"

"Me."

Monica and Max turned their heads to the owner of the voice. He stood tall, in regal assurance.

"I am on your side, cousin."

"Eldrinn?" Monica questioned, truly surprised at his appearance. She had thought he would have felt only bitterness toward her for having left Lebrante so suddenly and without warning.

"The charges upon you were nothing more than accusations of stress. You were missing, the king was dead. They made too hasty of assumptions. When word spread there was no way one could silence all their shouting voices. However, moods have simmered, in the least, and so now may be the only time possible to plead your innocence. Don't run away. We can straighten things out again."

Monica looked at Eldrinn, who faced her with his arm outstretched, then at Max, who politely moved aside so she and her cousin could converse. He wore on his face a slight smile but it was in his eyes where a bright sparkling hope glittered. He truly had confidence.

So, with Eldrinn, Max, Jace, and the men accompanying her cousin, Monica found a little flicker of hope enter her own being as she nodded her head and traveled to her time.

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Monica opened her eyes slightly, feeling a pain in her wrists and a massive headache. Her sight was met with austere greyness, save for a small break that was the door. Looking at her arms, they were held above her head in tight shackles. Her legs were also bound to the wall, lest she try any tricks. They had taken Crest's starglass away from her as well.

She remembered agreeing to return to the future. She remembered then many arms grabbing her and a sickening blow to the head. She remembered Max's horrified cry before everything turned to an empty ebony vastness.

Eldrinn . . . he _was_ bitter toward her, more than Monica expected. But what about Max? He wouldn't possibly trick her, would he? Max was the most pure-hearted soul she knew. However, he could have believed Eldrinn's lies just as easily as she had. So where was Max now?

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"Thank you, young Maximilian. Without your aid we would be searching for her still."

"I thought you wanted to help her!" Max spat.

Eldrinn narrowed his eyes, "And why should I? She ruined hundreds of lives. Even if she didn't kill the king Jasan, she stole his Atlamillia and escaped from prison after thieving from a sage."

Max found himself momentarily silenced. Then he raised his head, "Where is she?"

"In the prison cells, below our feet. But don't think you can try anything, boy. You'll be sent back home where you can't intervene."

"Can I speak with her?"

Eldrinn put a hand to his chin in though. "I'll allow five minutes, bound, blindfolded, and supervised."

Max nodded.

From the far side of the room, Eldrinn's two guards came forward. Harshly two cords were clasped about his wrists and were crudely tightened. One man walked in front of him while the other was behind as they walked through bleak, dark corridors. Max was not to be blindfolded until they came to the dungeons. He tried to take in the passageway's appearance, as if somehow that would help the situation.

When the floor leveled and the two heavy men stopped, Max felt a rough fabric slide coarsely over his eyes. Tautly it was tied behind his head.

No sooner had it been tightened had Max felt a strong hand from behind push him forward into a walk. He heard the sound of a small key being fitted and turned, then the squeak of an iron door as it swung open.

The guiding hands gripped his shoulders, signaling a halt.

"Max?" A voice pealed through the darkness.

"Monica—I didn't know—they . . . " Now that he was able to speak with her, he found himself bereft of his planned words. The guards still had hold of him securely.

"It's all right, Max. It's not your fault." Her voice was incomplete; empty. There was no reassurance, but there was not doubt either. She held no emotion.

At this, Max felt a frustration well rebelliously inside of him—however he did not mean for their limited time to be solely for self-pity. Before Max could make any utterance, Monica spoke.

"What's going to happen to you?"

"They're sending me back."

"That's probably for the best."

"No—it's . . ." He stopped his voice—forcing himself again not to waste time.

"And you?" He asked, unable to still his voice from betraying concern.

A sigh.

"Most likely I shall be executed."

Max's voice caught strangled in his throat. His brows tightened behind the cloth. Only a feeble whimper escaped his lips.

"They're taking no chances, not since Griffon. Five days is all I have left. Without doubt it would be in the ruins of my—ah!"

Max felt the guards start beside him; heard the sound of flesh on flesh, a hard contact. With a rush of realization he knew what Monica had attempted.

"Your minutes are over." A deep voice bellowed.

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Well mowr.

Um . . . lately I've been kinda worried about this story. Whenever I write something that's not supposed to be "odd and funny" it turns out to be a tad . . . troubling. And yup; I can see it happen to this one, too. Sorry.

"troubling" as in a little too -strange- dark. I dunno. Now I'm confusing myself.


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